When It All Falls Apart
by accioamber
Summary: What might have happened after Stacy left the first time? SongFic to the song when it all falls apart by the veronicas. First of many new songfics i plan on writing...r&r please!


Disclaimer: House, M.D. doesn't belong to me, sadly. Nor does this song or The Veronicas. Lyrics from This is a songfic from the song "It All Falls Apart" by The Veronicas. I was listening to the updates my cousin put on my iPod and I heard this song and immediately thought "omg. This is House thinking about Stacy." He is not a Veronicas kinda guy, but this song is so him. Anyways, please R&R! I would deff appreciate it. Hope You like it! **Oh yes, and there is swearing involved and spoilers for some of the Stacy stuff from ssn's one and two**. This is AU, set right after, about 2-3 weeks after, she left him the first time, after his leg. Oh yeah, and I'm pretty sure about the paintball thing. I can swear I remember him saying something like that…

**Househousehouse**

House popped a Vicodin. He was laying on his couch, his good leg curled up, his foot resting on his bad leg, which was laying completely straight. He was balancing a glass of whiskey in his left hand and the remote control in his right.

He wasn't paying attention to the TV. Or how much whiskey he'd consumed in the last half hour. Or the fact that that had been his fifth Vicodin since he'd gotten home from work three hours ago. No, he was busy thinking about Stacy.

_I'm having the day from hell,_

He was truly miserable. He hadn't felt this…overwhelmingly sad since his leg was crippled.

_  
It wasn't all going so well (before you came)_

She'd saved him, made everything better. When he'd met her, at that doctors vs. lawyers paintball match, his heart had basically stopped working the way it used to. He'd never believed in love at first sight. Hell, he hadn't really believed in love that much. But she had changed that quickly.

She'd been covered in orange and blue paint. Her hair was sticking up in several different directions from the helmet she'd just pried off of her head. She had no makeup on and had sweat pouring down her face. She was exhausted, and looked like she could have fallen asleep standing up. She was laughing. She was beautiful.

The first time he'd met her was the first time she'd saved him, from a lifetime of…not being able to love her. The second time she'd saved him had been with his leg. She'd saved his life, he knew that now. She was only doing what she had to.

But he'd held a grudge, and hardened some part of his heart against the woman he loved, and she'd noticed of course. And so he'd screwed it up.

_And you told me you needed space,  
With a kiss on the side my face (not again)_

"I just… Greg, I just need some space, some time to think about things!" She'd yelled, tears coursing down her cheeks, tears coming down his cheeks, too, and paced up and down in front of him. "You're so…distant, so different. I can't do this. I can't…be with someone who doesn't want to be with me."

"I do want to be with you." He whispered.

"No. If you did, you'd stop looking at me with such…hatred. With such anger. You wouldn't be angry over your leg and keep blaming me, you'd recognize that I saved you." She sighed.

"I do love you, Greg."

And so she'd leaned upwards and kissed his cheek. And walked out of the front door.

_And not to mention (the tears I shed)  
But I should have kicked your (ass instead)  
I need intervention  
Attention to stop temptation to scream_

He had cried to Wilson, bitterly and with intense anger and hatred like she'd said he had, afterwards. Wilson had tried to get some details, and House had just yelled at him. He'd been yelling at the wrong person. He should have picked up the phone and yelled at Stacy. All Wilson had been doing was giving him the attention he needed.

_ chorus Cause baby  
Everything is F'ed up straight from the heart  
Tell me what do you do, when it all falls apart  
Gotta pick myself up where do I start  
Cuz I can't turn to you when it all falls apart  
No_

Everything, everything had fallen apart underneath him. He had hardly been able to walk as it was, but now he couldn't see or hear because of the intense anger and sadness bubbling inside of him.

And the thing was, the person he usually went to when he was feeling like this, like the world was turning against him, was Stacy. How was he supposed to get through this hurt and pain when the person he turned to had caused it? How was he supposed to turn around his life and start over without her help? She wouldn't be there, and he would have to accept it.

_Don't know where I parked my car  
Don't know who my real friends are (anymore)_

All of a sudden, he thought, ever since she'd left, other aspects of his life had changed too.

The friends they'd had together, the ones he thought he'd had forever, had suddenly stopped talking to him. His friends Alex, Luke, and Jeff hadn't shown up at their weekly poker game. He'd called Wilson and asked him if he wanted to hang out that night.

Then there was Lucy, Amy and Sarah, the guys' wives. He'd always taken Amy to be the kind to drop a casserole off at someone's house when they broke up, but he hadn't gotten one. He usually received daily email from Lucy, asking how he was and touching base, not to mention those annoying forwards he always deleted. He hadn't heard from her in weeks, however. Not to mention the incident with Sarah.

He was at the grocery store, (out of chicken noodle soup and microwave pizza,) and had seen her. He'd raised his hand in a wave, but she'd shot him a rough glare and just steered her cart the other way.

It appeared as if everybody was siding with Stacy in the whole matter, and leaving him alone, with no one. Except Wilson. He had Wilson, he couldn't forget that. No matter where things went, he always had Wilson.

_I put my faith in you  
What a stupid thing to do (when it rains it pours)  
And not to mention (I drank too much)  
I'm feeling hung over (and out of touch)_

He had gotten completely drunk every night for five nights straight after she left. Flat out, completely, unbelievably drunk for five days. He'd cursed himself every time he tipped his glass (or the bottle) for trusting her. For letting his walls down and letting someone in.

And then the next morning, he would hate himself. For saying that and for drinking. Those were some wicked hangovers, he thought, wincing.

_ chorus_

_Can it be easier?  
Can I just change my life?  
Cause it just seems to go bad everytime  
Will I be mending?  
another one ending once again_

Could he just change everything? Would it get any easier to roll over in bed and not see her sleeping form? Would that ache in his heart every time he thought of her, (which was all the time) go away? Could he change his life to something better?

_ chorus  
Falls apart  
Gotta pick myself up 'cause things are messed up_

He had to. His life was screwed up, but if he didn't want it to be any more screwed up, he would have to move on, get over her. He scoffed. Yeah, right. He would never get over her. But maybe he could just…forget. At least for the time being. He could try to. He swallowed some more whiskey and popped another Vicodin.

THE END

So what did you think? Bear with me, I wrote this at one in the morning.  R&R! Please!


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